Wilderness Backpacking Trails

This is one of my Trail Tales.  Here are entry 1, entry 2, entry 3 and entry 4.

We left Connecticut with sixteen days available to make it back in time for the spring semester.  We took three days to hitch to Sacramento from Phoenix, not bad for three guys toting along a whole bunch of stuff, but we were getting short on time.  The I-5 ramp in downtown Sacramento at midday proved to be a tough place to hitch.  Maybe our vaudeville routine was loosing its pizzazz, or maybe not venturing forth beyond that white line on the entrance ramp dampened our effectiveness.  Zwiebel decided to track down a phone directory to locate transport agencies in the area.  I had visions of him driving back with a car needing to be delivered to Salt Lake City.  During his momentary absence a car finally pulled over, another VW Beetle.

We quickly explained to the red-headed teenager that popped out that there were actually three of us.  This did not seem to faze him; in fact, he was apologetic about going only a few exits north.  Having to hitch out of the suburbs of Sacramento did not bode well, but we were desperate.  For the third time during our journey we crammed three backpacks, three sleeping bags, two grocery bags full of food, one two-burner Coleman stove and one can of Coleman fuel into a Beetle.  To close the hood the driver had to climb up and jump on it.

In a short period of time we found out a lot about each other.  He found out that we were going up to Seattle to look for logging jobs.  We found out that he was about to go into the service in a few days and had some time to kill.  As the only person in the car who had been to Seattle before, I began to bill it up as a great place to visit, with much the same zeal and ulterior motive as a travel agent.  This customer proved to be an easy sell.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I come along?” he asked.

We, of course, were enthusiastically receptive about the idea.

“Do you mind if I bring a friend along?” he pushed further.

Well, what were we going to say?  “No!  Bring your car but leave your friend home?”

Our host went to pick up his friend and then to his house where he dropped off a note for his Mom that said something to the effect of:  “I’m going to Seattle for a couple days.  I’ll call you tonight.”  Meanwhile, the other four of us went about the chore of finding the hidden crannies where two more sleeping bags and another body could be crammed into a VW Beetle.  A younger sister looked out the window with a puzzled expression as we drove off.

I did much of the driving, with the excuse of being the one most familiar with Washington, but with the real motivation of spending the most time in the least cramped seat.  We encountered blizzard conditions at the higher elevations of Oregon, which meant near zero visibility, but the sheer weight in the Beetle kept us on the road nicely.  I was the least troubled person in the car over the fact that I could not see.

We made one pit stop in the state to refuel.  At the station Savitt and I went into the restroom, where I saw a condom machine for the first time.  The novelty alone made me want to buy one.

“What are you going to do with a condom?”  Savitt responded sarcastically.

I resented the implications behind his remark, but had no legitimate answer.  We left the condoms behind.

We arrived at my brother’s house in Olympia, Washington early the next morning. Everyone had become so tired by the drive that we all spread our sleeping bags out on the living room floor and crashed.  In the afternoon we headed up to Seattle to give our benefactors the tour for which they made the trip.  By the time we returned to my brother’s house again “Red” and his friend needed to return right away to Sacramento.  They made the fifteen hundred mile round trip for a few hours of sightseeing:  in a customary Seattle drizzle.

What comes around goes around they say, and taking advantage of two teenagers wanting to see Seattle would come back to haunt me.

Technorati Tags: Pacific Crest Trail, Trail Tales

Tags: Pacific Crest Trail, Trail Tales